


cold rain and the burning sun

by tarkus



Category: VIXX
Genre: M/M, taekwoon is a pianist, wonshik is a writer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 18:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19156327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarkus/pseuds/tarkus
Summary: the one where Wonshik is fire and Taekwoon is rain;





	cold rain and the burning sun

**Author's Note:**

> while writing this fic, I was heavily inspired by this gorgeous [album](https://open.spotify.com/album/0I8vpSE1bSmysN2PhmHoQg?si=kLHSEkSSQ1KY_ujDeSwrvQ) by Keith Jarrett ☆ (one of my favorite pianists of all time and if you're curious enough to listen, please imagine that this is what Taek plays at the end of the fic.)

 

 

Taekwoon is rain, that kind of cold, thin rain that falls from the sky endlessly; that kind of rain that sticks into your bones and makes you shiver and long for warmer days.

Taekwoon is rain, and that’s the very first thing Wonshik thinks when he meets the other man.

That kind of thought probably arises because the weather outside mirrors the expression on Taekwoon’s face: cold, impassible and beautiful, with water falling and falling, creating puddles on the streets, making everyone shudder.

Wonshik is mesmerized and terrified at the same time, because, you see, Wonshik is the complete opposite of cold, thin rains. Wonshik is fire and the sun. Wonshik burns and burns, like a warm summer’s day. Sometimes, Wonshik burns a little too hot, scaring people away, but that’s not the point. The point is, Wonshik is fire and Taekwoon is rain, so nothing good could come up from such a relationship.

Some people might say that opposites attract, but everyone knows that’s not the truth, especially in this particular case. It is a wide known fact that fire doesn’t bode well with rain – or water, for that matter.

However, that’s not what Wonshik is thinking when he greets Taekwoon, in a pretentious dim lit bar, with so many people surrounding them, with voices way too loud for Wonshik to understand precisely what Taekwoon is saying.

Taekwoon is a friend of a friend of Hongbin, and that’s how they meet. Wonshik introduces himself, saying only his name, and nothing more, and Taekwoon replies with a raise of his eyebrows and an icy stare. But remember that Wonshik is fire, and fire, as burning and raging as it is, it’s also a very stubborn element.

So, Wonshik keeps talking, because Taekwoon doesn’t reply or show any emotion, and that is a challenge and a promise at the same time.

He starts chatting about the weather, which makes him remember about that one 80’s song that he doesn’t particularly like, but the bar is crowded and it’s so hard to talk, and Taekwoon keeps looking to the sides as if he’s _bored_ and that doesn’t sit well for Wonshik.

He invites Taekwoon out for a smoke, but, by the look on his eyes and the shake of his head, Taekwoon doesn’t do those kinds of things.

Wonshik goes out anyway, enjoying the coldness of the rain and the clarity that comes with the smoke of a cigarette. Wonshik is fire, after all.

But Taekwoon is rain, and just like the rain, he steps outside and stands by Wonshik side, looking at him curiously.

It makes Wonshik go a little crazy, if he can be honest, but it’s probably the alcohol settling in, or, maybe, his heart peaking up at the moment Taekwoon takes his hand and places a piece of paper there.

Taekwoon, just like the rain, vanishes in the cold night.

But Wonshik is fire, and he ends the night with a new number on his cellphone.

 

⬘

 

Wonshik, as much of a fire as he is, doesn’t do much with the new number he acquired on that fateful night, in fact, he even forces his mind to forget about meeting Taekwoon and their whole exchange. Because… well, because Wonshik tends to burn people away and he is more or less busy these days, with his work that doesn’t seem to go _anywhere_.

It bothers him, not being able to work properly. Something inside of himself lost its spark, and Wonshik is almost sure calling or texting Taekwoon – rain and fire, fire and rain, it wouldn’t work – won’t solve this problem.

So, Wonshik goes on with his life and forgets about cold, thin rains.

Until there’s this gathering, this kind of launch party of an art gallery which Hongbin is part of and he’s exposing some of his artworks, and Wonshik just _needs_ to go because Hongbin is not the best with crowds and that’s what best friends do, after all.

But Wonshik, being as sparky and forgetful as he is, forgets that, somewhere along the days and weeks and months, Taekwoon became friends with Hongbin too.

And just there, amid fancy people, white walls and marble floors, Wonshik sees Taekwoon again.

Taekwoon looks stunning and dangerous, just like heavy clouds on a storm’s day, and Wonshik can’t help himself, never could. His hands _itch_ and shake because he needs to write something; he tries looking around for some piece of paper, a napkin, anything. He already has his faithful pen in hands because, you see, Wonshik _always_ carries pens around.

It’s in this middle of searching for a paper, trying to think on the right words to describe how stunning Taekwoon is without giving away his _feelings_ , that he feels a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Wonshik.”

He blinks in response because he doesn’t know what to do. Taekwoon is staring at him with those eyes, and his silky black hair is shining under the lights of the art gallery, and it’s just… way too much right now. Wonshik needs to write something – anything – down.

He looks at Taekwoon hands, pale and inviting.

And Wonshik is fire, reckless, unstopping, so he takes Taekwoon’s hand and writes down a phone number.

“Sorry, call me next time ok?”

With that, he steps away, leaving without looking back. He can’t do much anyway, he feels ashamed and proud at the same time. Ashamed for never calling, proud of making this move.

On his way out, he grabs a glass of champagne and downs it in one go.

 

⬘

 

Wonshik starts writing the moment he steps inside his house, mostly forgetting about what transpired in the evening, until he receives a message of a known number.

With his heart beating fast and his fires dancing around, he replies with a “ _yes_ ,” and it’s settled.

Taekwoon wants to meet him, meet in this fancy French restaurant that Wonshik is not very fond of. But how he could possibly deny that when the prospect of seeing Taekwoon again, and actually _talking_ , makes him shiver and smile?

He couldn’t, wouldn’t.

So, on the agreed date, Wonshik goes to the fancy French restaurant. He carefully picks his clothes and combs his hair. He wants to look _presentable_ , which he rarely is. Fire is hard to be tamed.

But he does go, and when he steps inside the place, filled with too many reds and candles for Wonshik’s liking, he spots Taekwoon in one of the tables near the windows. The man looks regal and way too much for Wonshik’s heart, with that navy suit and black hair and icy stare. Taekwoon is rain, and he falls and falls on Wonshik’s heart until he feels completely drowned.

And they didn’t even start talking yet.

He clears his throat, sits on the designated chair, and proceeds to stare at the menu, he hears Taekwoon chuckling, but he doesn’t know _why_.

Taekwoon is rain, but during dinner and some glasses of wine, he eases out, becoming more of a mist, a river, something easy. They don’t talk much, but Wonshik holds Taekwoon’s hand from across the table, and he stares at the blue veins for quite some time, until Taekwoon lets out a strangled noise and Wonshik sees him blushing. Or, maybe it’s all that red wine and fancy food. Wonshik utterly despises French cuisine, but he would do it all over again if that would mean Taekwoon would look at him like _that_. 

Wonshik pays the bill and asks _wanna go to my apartment?_ Of course that is not a promise to anything, but Taekwoon nods, maybe too eager.

They go to Wonshik’s apartment, the place being as messy as Wonshik’s mind, but Taekwoon barely notices anything because as soon as they step inside, Taekwoon kisses Wonshik with all the intention of making it as messy and hot as possible.

Wonshik, in turn, burns, guiding the other man to his room with all the intention to make this a memorable night.

Taekwoon lays down, shirt already half-open, and in his eyes Wonshik sees a whole storm, thunders and black clouds.

Fire and rain don’t go well together, but when the circumstances are right, something intense happens.

That’s exactly what takes place, in Wonshik’s messy bed. Too many noises, gasps, scratches and bites. Taekwoon’s sweet voice filling the empty spaces of the walls. And Wonshik? Well, he goes hard and burns way too hot, as if testing the other man.

They fit so well together it’s almost scary. Wonshik is not one to complain, though, neither Taekwoon, by the way he closes his eyes and _moans_.

They fit well, and when the business is done, Taekwoon sleeps on Wonshik’s side of the bed, hugging Wonshik’s back.

At that moment, Wonshik can’t stop thinking how he will either burn Taekwoon away, or it will be Taekwoon to drown him in his waters.

 

⬘

 

When morning comes, there’s no Taekwoon in sight, and that’s alright for Wonshik. He now has something to use, something to _write_ , and isn’t that a precious thing?

He picks his old notebook and his black pen as soon as his mind starts clearing, and he writes about heavy rains that drown him in such a painful way it’s almost pleasurable. He writes about pale skin and soft noises.

He writes, and some sort of accomplishment and happiness fills his entire body. He’s a whole bonfire now, too hot, with too much smoke.

That’s the best Wonshik has ever felt in a long, long time, so he keeps writing.

 

⬘

 

An unspoken affair starts.

They don’t talk much, but Taekwoon appears from time to time, with his icy stare that’s quickly melted by Wonshik’s fire. Maybe that’s why he keeps coming, maybe it’s because of the sex. Wonshik likes to think it’s because of neither. He’s not one to make assumptions, you know.

In any case, he always lets Taekwoon in, indulges him in whatever he’s in the mood for. Wonshik is, just like fire, a force of nature that can destroy or save lives; this time around, he wants to ease and warm whatever is troubling Taekwoon’s heart.

He manages, but barely.

Whenever morning comes, Taekwoon is never there, which makes Wonshik write some more.

After weeks going like that, Wonshik ends up with a full notebook, and maybe, just maybe, he should call his editor to say he has something new.

But _not yet_ , not until Taekwoon drowns Wonshik entirely.

That’s what he’s hoping for, what he expects from this.

 

That’s what he gets.

 

⬘

 

When winter finally comes around, Taekwoon disappears. Not entirely, but he stops coming, stops seeking Wonshik’s fires.

_That_ is a problem.

Since they never talked much, Wonshik doesn’t have a clue on why this is happening, or what could make Taekwoon so busy he stopped answering his messages.

But Wonshik is fire, and fire also carries pride in its flames.

He completely refuses to let a heartbreak settle in, he fuels all his energy and anger into his work, and, in any other circumstance, that would do to silence his mind.

Not this time, though.

It’s the uniqueness of Taekwoon, together with the rawness of his voice after a long night and his _hands_ and –

Well.

Wonshik doesn’t know if this time he’s burning or drowning.

A big problem, indeed.

He decides to do nothing about it.

 

⬘

 

The next time Wonshik sees Taekwoon again, it’s already mid-winter. It’s an exhibition of one of Hongbin’s friends, a young man extremely talented and all. They always are.

Honestly, Wonshik isn’t expecting to see the face of his former lover, but when he does, it feels like he’s been hurting all over again.

Fire easily forgets, fire easily remembers.

It takes all of Wonshik’s willpower to not run away, and, in that fraction of a second where he stares at the other man, he sees _things_. Taekwoon is there, but his thin cold rains are too; Taekwoon’s hair is not pitch black anymore, a lighter color, something that should be warmer but just feels out of place, and he’s thinner, looking too delicate. The eyes are the biggest change, though, they lack the iciness, but they also lack any other kind of emotion.

It’s unsettling, so he walks towards his doom and stands right in front of it, right in front of Taekwoon.

There’s no rain nor storm; there’s nothing actually.

“I miss you,” Wonshik states.

Taekwoon only blinks at him, not a single emotion crossing his beautiful face.

Maybe Wonshik did burn Taekwoon to the point of no return.

But…

“I miss you too,” Taekwoon answers, in his small soft voice, his cheeks turning pink, his eyes downcast. “I’m sorry.”

It’s impossible to know if Taekwoon is being truthful or not, but Wonshik decides the room is too crowded, noisy, so he takes Taekwoon’s hands in his and guides them outside.

The day is cold and grey, not perfect for someone too hot, but he can’t delay this conversation.

“I called you so many times.”

Taekwoon shivers when a gust of wind swipes them both, “I know.”

“What happened?”

His answer comes with slow blinks and an open mouth, but Wonshik is impatient this time, so he hugs Taekwoon tightly, embracing the waters, wanting to drown some more, missing the filling of lacking air in his lungs.

“It’s okay, will you go out with me one more time? Dinner? Just to talk. Here’s too crowded, too cold, I want to do this right.”

He doesn’t let go of Taekwoon until the man is forcing his way out, nodding only once and stepping away, going back inside the gallery.

Wonshik is almost certainly that was a yes.

 

⬘

 

A yes it was.

Taekwoon calls him right the next day, with a voice that feels like hope and maybe like the warmth of a summer's rain. But that’s probably just Wonshik’s mind.

He picks a nice traditional restaurant that’s very far away from being fancy for their date. He wants to do this right and, to do so, he must show to Taekwoon his true self.

Taekwoon looks entirely out of place inside the small restaurant, surrounded by faded white walls and the smell of meat and grease. He seems a little lost too, and when the waitress comes to their table, giving them plastic menus with yellow pages, Taekwoon looks at Wonshik in disbelief. But the food here is delicious, and he reassures Taekwoon just that.

He orders a bottle of soju for them, just to ease his nerves. Taekwoon seems more relaxed after the first sip of the liquid so…

They start talking, Wonshik is the first to initiate. In the midst of the laughs and noisy conversations surrounded them, he begins:

“Why did you disappear?”

Taekwoon sips the soju some more, looks at the sides, frowns.

“I –”

Wonshik shakes his head, he doesn’t want to pressure Taekwoon in any way. He’s just curious. (And a little bit mad, hurt, but no one needs to know.)

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk,” he says, side-eyeing Taekwoon and his reactions.

“No. It’s not okay,” Taekwoon replies with a certainty that makes Wonshik shiver a little. “We never talked, Wonshik, you don’t know me, and I don’t know you. We just had an affair.”

“Oh.”

The food arrives then, and it tastes as wonderful as Wonshik remembers. A pity that he lost his appetite. He decides to get drunk instead.

Surprisingly, Taekwoon seems to enjoy the food, and he maybe was starving all along because Wonshik never saw someone eat that much. It makes him chuckle.

“What?” Taekwoon asks.

“You’re beautiful.” It’s the answer that comes out, not what Wonshik wanted to say at all, but how one controls fire? One does not.

Taekwoon blushes, leaving his chopsticks on the plate and looking at the small windows behind Wonshik.

“I was busy last month…”

Wonshik hums.

You can’t apply pressure on water; otherwise, it changes its state. Or, at least that’s what his physics textbooks used to say.

But Taekwoon stops, staring at Wonshik for a couple of seconds.

“You really don’t know who I am, right?”

That question feels weird, making Wonshik raise one eyebrow.

“You’re Taekwoon.” _You’re rain_.

Taekwoon laughs, making his eyes disappear, showing teeth and all. It’s such a beautiful sight, Wonshik almost fishes his pen on his back pocket.

“Of course, yes,” Taekwoon finally replies, still laughing a little. “Why don’t we start this all over again?”

Something inside Wonshik starts to grow, a tiny flame that could become anything, really.

He agrees.

 

That night they go to Wonshik’s apartment, but nothing much happens other than sweet kisses and caresses. Taekwoon says he doesn’t want to have sex like before because they will be repeating the same _pattern_. Wonshik can’t say he agrees, but he complies.

Instead of fucking, they talk; and Taekwoon, soft-spoken and shy as he is, talks a lot. It’s the soju and the good food, obviously.

Wonshik listens to it all, holding his hand and kissing his neck, his cheeks, from time to time.

And Wonshik learns some things. He learns that Taekwoon is something like a famous pianist, that he travels a lot, that he often forgets about his phone during his tours. That would explain his taste for fancy western stuff. That also makes Wonshik curious. Music… is the kind of art Wonshik always admired from afar. So hard, so simple and beautiful.

That night, he wants to _make love_ to Taekwoon, and he states that clearly. But Taekwoon just shakes his head, blushing fervently. Wonshik is burning him.

That night, Wonshik also sees that Taekwoon can be rain, but he can also be a calm river, warm and inviting.

Wonshik wants to drown, again and again.

 

⬘

 

The moment Wonshik is alone, he decides to research Taekwoon on the internet. Surprisingly (or not), he finds many things, but mostly he just wants to listen to Taekwoon songs.

Wonshik discovers another side of the man then. Something raw and poetic. Gorgeous even. Heavenly. He could use many adjectives to describe what he’s feeling, and not a single one of them would be enough. Taekwoon songs are just like him, it’s possible to see some sides of him every time he presses a piano key. Most of the songs are sad, others are almost angry, only a few speak to Wonshik as happiness or love.

Wonshik himself can relate to that, and something inside of him burns and burns.

He calls Taekwoon, invites him over. Says he wants to make Taekwoon feel good.

Taekwoon chuckles on the phone, but after hours go by and night comes in, Taekwoon is at his doorstep.

They kiss, with all the intention to make it as slow as possible, and in the middle of taking Taekwoon’s clothes off, Wonshik says: “I was listening to your songs, they’re beautiful. Just like you.”

Taekwoon blushes under the dim lights of Wonshik’s bedroom, and he’s not rain anymore, maybe never was. He’s a whole river, inviting, precious, ready to drown Wonshik in its calm waters.

Wonshik is ready, too. And that’s how they spend the night.

 

When morning comes, Taekwoon is still there, in bed, with him. He kisses Wonshik’s forehead and says: “good morning, beautiful.” But it sounds just like a bright future ahead.

They start some kind of routine of sorts. They are both busy all the time, but they make do. Taekwoon always arrives at night, and he makes a point to always talk with Wonshik before they start touching each other. They need to know each other, after all. And Wonshik, as heated as he is, complies. Because he may be fire, but when he’s with Taekwoon, he feels more like the sun on a winter’s day; he feels at ease, not wanting to burn or hurt, only wanting to give warm.

If Taekwoon is a river and Wonshik is the sun, they can make this work. Or, at least that’s what Wonshik tells himself when he’s alone. 

 

⬘

 

When spring comes, Taekwoon is rain and river. Taekwoon is the water that makes Wonshik able to breathe, even if he’s drowning in the process.

In one particular night though, Taekwoon is neither of those things.

 

Taekwoon barges inside Wonshik’s apartment just like a thunderstorm. The chaotic motion and the way his eyes look sad _and_ murderous make Wonshik step back.

And then… Taekwoon is a full raging ocean, his waves crashing on Wonshik and making him unable to do anything.

Taekwoon is crying. So much. Wonshik can’t do much other than hug and whisper “it will be alright,” even though he doesn’t know what happened.

Taekwoon’s waves make Wonshik feel dizzy, out of place. But he stays there until the waters calm down and Taekwoon sniffs, saying a weak _sorry_.

The explanation only comes the next morning. Something to do with Taekwoon’s label, they canceled his Europe tour in favor to promote another artist, someone younger, more _skilled_ , trendy.

Wonshik doubts that there’s anyone more skilled than Taekwoon, but his opinion is completely biased and he knows it. That’s the reason he keeps quiet, letting Taekwoon pour out all his worries and fears.

And Wonshik can become the sun itself if that will make Taekwoon smile again, and maybe that’s why he says “ _don’t give up_ ,” and “ _why don’t you try looking for another label? One that respects you?_ ”

That seems to do the trick, and Taekwoon leaves that day with a smile on his face and a love mark on his neck, courtesy of Wonshik, of course.

 

⬘

 

The flowers from spring start to wither away, because of the heat and because of the sun.

Summer makes everyone restless, his editor included. The man calls Wonshik over and over, bothers him day and night, demanding a manuscript, something they can work on.

And Wonshik, being the fire and the _sun_ , answers in angry tones. He almost sets fire to one of his notebooks because it’s just too frustrating.

He has material, he has a thousand poems written with love and care. But it’s just _too sappy_ or _too sad_ for his editor liking.

One day, he decides he will follow his own advice – the one he gave to Taekwoon not so long ago – and he _actually_ burns his contract in front of his editor and the whole people from the publishing house.

It’s satisfying, in some way.

And it’s summer, and he has a hundred poems about the rain and the river. So he calls Taekwoon and tells him what he just did.

Taekwoon only hums, sounding worried. They schedule a date night.

 

“You’re too reckless.”

“What?”

“Why did you do that, Wonshik?”

Wonshik looks at Taekwoon, at how he wears black so well, even though blue is the color that suits him most. His hair is getting long, making his face look sweeter, inviting. Wonshik takes one step ahead, picks Taekwoon’s hand.

“I don’t know,” he answers truthfully.

Taekwoon sighs, brushes Wonshik’s hand off.

“I will be gone the whole summer,” Taekwoon whispers, mostly to himself. But Wonshik is used by now to Taekwoon’s tones, his little voices.

He feels his heart failing him. “What? When?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Where are you going? Why didn’t you tell me?”

And there, right in the face Wonshik learned to see all kinds of waters, he sees the cold rain again.

“Why would I? It’s not like we’re together.”

Wonshik feels like passing out. It’s probably the summer’s heat and his own fires. Burning everything. He doesn’t _understand_ where this is coming from, it feels like he just lost a big piece of information and now…

And now he can’t do anything about it, because what Taekwoon says is true, even if it’s not. It makes him remember a line he once wrote, something like _I can’t swim your waters if you can’t bear my fires_.

“But…”

“I’m sorry,” Taekwoon hugs him, tightly, maybe intending to actually drown Wonshik for good. “It’s just… I’m not ready for this, you, me. _Us_. It scares me, you’re too intense, too much. I need to go. We will see each other again, okay? Please don’t burn any more contracts.”

Wonshik feels a little bit struck with the number of words Taekwoon let out, but he understands, even if he doesn’t agree.

He kisses Taekwoon with all the intention to make his point across. _I burn I bleed I need you please come back_.

 

⬘

 

With no more water to comfort his fires, Wonshik burns _fast_.

He spends most of his days at home, writing and sleeping. He receives calls that he doesn’t answer, his door is knocked several times, but he only opens it when it’s the delivery guy. A month comes and goes, and Wonshik almost forgets about the world outside, his mind too troubled.

There’s not a single trace of Taekwoon anywhere, and he knows he’s not actively looking, because if he did, he would certainly know.

But he doesn’t, and that’s alright.

He’s working on a big project after all.

It’s about love and fire and rain, and maybe that’s sappy and cliché. Wonshik doesn’t mind. Someone will like it, and that’s what matters.

Taekwoon once said to him that all his songs, every single one of them, were only created for himself and that it’s a blessing that others came to enjoy them too. Taekwoon said he would never create for _others_.

And Wonshik, at that time, thought that it was a very selfish thing to say. But maybe now he understands… Not that much, because everything he writes is for other people. Always was. But, in some way, Taekwoon was right.

Just thinking about the other man makes Wonshik tremble a little, so he stops at once and focus again.

If he does this right… well, he hopes Taekwoon sees it, reads it.

Wonshik burns, and he burns a lot. But it’s with the intention to pick his ashes in the end and throw them in the calmness of the rivers. To settle. To be free. 

 

⬘

 

It takes half a year, and winter is just around the corner again, for Wonshik to finally finish his project.

Wonshik never truly forgot Taekwoon. It’s impossible to do so.

Especially now, at the end of autumn, with the incessant thin rains.

Taekwoon really disappeared, or something like that. They never exchanged messages or called each other often anyway. Sometimes Wonshik wonders where the other man went, if he just avoided Wonshik, if he moved to Europe…

But it’s useless to think on the _what ifs_. His project is finished, and it’s with much pride and happiness in his heart that it was accepted in another publishing house. Even though people in the publishing circle called him crazy and unstable (which were both half-trues), that one company said ‘fuck it’ and accepted Wonshik. Or, well, that’s how he imagined it. You know how writers go, they all tend to dramatize events of real life.

And dramatizing he is when his book is finally published and he’s at the first signing event. He smiles and laughs boldly at everyone who comes to get his signature; he even talks to some of them, asking about their love lives and what not. The people who call themselves his fans are always delighted when Wonshik does that.

It’s at the end of the event, when the line is already non-existent, that he _sees_ a familiar figure.

Wonshik burns and his heart almost stops.

Taekwoon is there, holding his book close to his chest and smiling at Wonshik, the same smile that used to make Wonshik melt. He looks good, too good, with his hair now bleached blond, away from his face, wearing blue jeans and a blue trench coat.

Wonshik’s hands are shaking when Taekwoon approaches and leaves the book on the table, the first page open.

“Hi.”

Wonshik wants to scream.

Taekwoon blinks at him, a small smile on his face, and Wonshik quickly grabs his signing pen, not knowing exactly what to do with it.

“Huh, what should I write?”

Taekwoon places his hand on top of Wonshik’s.

“You already dedicated this book to me, didn’t you?”

And it’s way too bold to Taekwoon to assume things like that, even if he’s not entirely wrong. Right in the first page of Wonshik’s book, it says: _to my raindrop, my love_.

“I still need to sign it, though,” he answers, trying to appear unbothered.

But bothered he is, way too much.

“Do it then.”

Taekwoon sounds too confident, and Wonshik wants to get up and kiss him right there. He would do it if there weren’t other people around. Resigned, he just signs quickly, handling the book back to Taekwoon.

However, Taekwoon doesn’t leave right away, he stares at Wonshik’s eyes for a couple of seconds, until he slips a piece of paper on the table.

“Come to my concert tomorrow,” he says. And, after a heartbeat, he adds: “Please.”

 

⬘

 

Wonshik goes.

He tries to dress better for this. It’s a concert, and as far as his knowledge on those things goes, he needs to at least be presentable.

And it’s a Taekwoon’s concert at that, which means it _will_ be fancy.

Everything related to Taekwoon is either fancy or beautiful, sometimes the two of them combined.

But Wonshik is biased, and he goes, holding a red rose in hand because that’s how sappy he is.

He’s burning so much, and the thrill of letting himself burn all the way and be drown in Taekwoon’s waters makes him feel alive.

 

When he gets to the place, he’s surprised to be guided to the vip area, and, not so surprisingly, everyone is dressed quite well. But he doesn’t think much of it. The lights are out, the curtains are open, and, as expected, there he is: Taekwoon and a white piano in the middle of the stage.

Wonshik didn’t know what to expect, he had listened to Taekwoon’s songs before. But seeing it alive feels almost like an out of body experience. He sees Taekwoon’s hands slide, creating all those beautiful sounds, he watches as a bead of sweat falls from Taewoon’s forehead, and he shivers when Taekwoon hums and moans with the songs.

The concert takes too long, and no time at all, and when it’s finally finished, Wonshik is breathless, one single word just at the tip of his tongue.

And he’s still holding the red rose when the security people come to fetch him to say Taekwoon is waiting for him backstage.

 

Waiting he is.

The moment Taekwoon sees Wonshik, he opens his face wholly, becoming the river, the ocean, and the rain altogether. He runs to Wonshik and kisses his cheeks and forehead and lips, unbothered by the staff people all around.

Wonshik blushes and chuckles and gives the flower to Taekwoon.

A blink, a rise of eyebrows.

“I missed you,” Wonshik says, and then: “I love you.”

It feels raw, and it’s obviously not the best moment to say those kinds of things, but there it is, in the open.

He knows he can’t pressure water, but he also can’t let his feelings inside of himself for too long, or he will burn too much.

Taekwoon accepts the flower, shakes his head once twice, making Wonshik confused. When he looks again, there are tears in his eyes, but he’s holding Wonshik close, closer.

“Did you like the concert?” He asks.

A little taken aback, Wonshik answers:

“It was lovely, beautiful, just like you.”

“I wrote those songs for you, for _us_.”

“Oh.”

Wonshik doesn’t know if that’s an answer to his confession, but he can understand Taekwoon a little bit. Water moves and water changes, it doesn’t die as quickly as fire. Water is a constant, but hard to keep.

“Do you want to go to my apartment?” Wonshik says instead of voicing out his thoughts.

“Yes, yes,” Taekwoon says, sounding breathless. “I would _love_ that.”

 

⬘

 

Water and fire don’t go well together, and that’s what people often say. They’re opposite elements after all.

However, that’s not the real truth.

Wonshik lays Taekwoon on his bed as if he’s the most precious thing in the world, and for Wonshik he _is_. And they kiss, and they make love, even being opposites. Because if Wonshik burns too fast, Taekwoon is that very thin rain that can ease out Wonshik’s fire, that can bring peace to both of their hearts.

It’s not actually perfect; but love never is, and that’s alright for both of them.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> ━━☆⌒*. [twitter](https://twitter.com/tttarkus)


End file.
